Unhappy In Me
by
Nancy Lorenz
Disclaimer: All characters copyright Marvel and Fox.
Feedback: Feed the monkey. Pleeeeeeeze!
Dedication: I know, this intro is very vague. It's supposed to be. Now - I kinda nicked this idea off of my good friend Rebecca Littlehales of the Xenaverse. This is the second time in so many days that I have done this. All I can say is - she did this first, she did this better, and she did this with characters that fit better with the idea. I think this story is pretty plain, and all that guff. Her is much better. I bow to her, and I apologize to her for being an unoriginal idea-stealing sod. This is the last time - I SWEAR!!
I watch them together sometimes. His arms around her, his eyes gazing into hers, his face so close to her skin, no fear. No fear. Watching - it's all I can do, cause envy takes you and eats you up, and you have nothing else to do but look, and wonder "Why her and not me?"
When he left, I was so sure it was me he was devoted to. The way he uttered those special words to me, his eyes glowing that rich hazel that's hard to ignore. The way the thin lips tilted up and somehow looked soft amongst all that stubble. He made me feel like a queen. He's good at that - with just a look he makes you feel so very special, important, wanted. It's because he's wild - the littlest thing from something wild has the most powerful gravity. Love from a tamed animal is bland, and being chosen by wilderness - that's empowering.
I have the love of something that I fight not to see as bland. He's devoted to me, it's so easy to see in his actions. He hugs me, presses kisses to my hair, smiles as if I meant the world to him (and I do). I can see it in his actions... but I can't see it in his eyes.
People don't believe that I'm in love with Scott. They doubt it, constantly, probably because of Logan. They see gravity in my gazes to him, my smiles. Maybe I give away the rush of heat he creates inside of me more than I realise.
Everyone looks at her. They gaze at her like she's Aphrodite herself, the way her hips sway and those lips curl up. She has these eyes, that everyone wants to fall into - and that hair. That unimaginable shade that you just can't buy. All the men love her, adore her, all the girls look up to her. I don't know why they do, they just do. Then again, with those unreal looks, no wonder he couldn't resist her, even though it's wrong. Can't they see how wrong it is?
Scott never accepted it. He didn't want to, and he made it known how wrong he thought it was. I don't think anyone else saw it that way. They said it was 'inevotable', and 'darling'. Unrequited love turned true. I couldn't see that - in the scathing in my tired heart, I just saw selfishness. That they were together, that they didn't see how it affected others. Everyone thought I was heartbroken.
They're right.
As much as I love Scott, I ache for what they have. In their carefree movements, in their smiles - they scream of freedom, of youth. How can I feel so old? I'm not old. Then again, when your younger years were filled with the tormenting voices and thoughts of others, it makes you grow up fast. I had to grow up fast.
My life is about control. I'm bound, bound by it.
I can't smile, and I can't laugh. I can't run and giggle and grin - not like them. I'm covered by responsibility, and my life is the fight for good, because really - I don't have anything else. I have Scott...
But next to Logan, he seems so pale. He's controlled too, controlled and firm and enfolded in responsibility. His life is the fight too, and me. I think that's why it hurts him when I gaze at Logan.
What else can he expect from me? Doesn't he know what I saw in his mind?
Underneath all that show, that macho crap, that haggard masculinity there was such a wealth of kindness, such a tender sweetness that no woman could resist. I wish I never saw his mind. I wish I'd only ever seen the swaggering jerk that thought he was a king.
When I saw that hidden wealth, I was taken by the depths of him, and it was wrong, because someone like me wasn't supposed to want someone like him.
Someone like him loved someone like her. Her delightful voice, her beguiling femininity. She was all woman. She was silky hair, endless legs, pale skin of cream and lips of strawberries. I knew everybody looked at her, saw her as the 'darling of the X-Men'. Beauty and strength all wrapped in one. They say she's had it hard too.
All I see is those eyes that get her what she needs.
Yeah, that's selfish of me. I guess I'm supposed to be better than that. But with my life, and the hardship it brings, I think I'm allowed to look and wish... just wish that things were different.
You get older, you regret more - that's probably why I'm sitting here staring at them, wishing I was her, ignoring the beautiful man I have at my side. I just hate being unhappy in my body, unhappy in myself. Sometimes I think she's more woman than I could ever be. Scott knows I feel that, frowns at me, tells me how beautiful I am and how other people think so too. When you're in a school well stocked with leggy beauties, it's easy to get overlooked by the more devastating woman.
Not that that's important to me. What is is... Logan's smile.
He gives it to her freely, like his devotion, his love, his life. Nobody seems to know or care what that does to me, then again this is my own problem, not theirs. I have to deal with it on my own.
I guess it's not Logan I'm broken over, it's more the romantic ideal of him. Of the animal that chose his mate, of the wild savage beast that grew soft and tame at the sight of - well - her. I never questioned what I was till I walked in on him in that room, saw the raw man and suddenly wondered how sheltered I must have been, to never encountered such a being.
Maybe every woman wishes they could be the princess, like she's a princess. Fairy tale love affairs are rare and precious. Maybe not real, no. They'll have their problems, I can see that.
They also have a love, the kind of love you just hate, cause you want to have it yourself.
Maybe I do have it, and I'm ignoring it because of my jealousy. It doesn't matter. I'm me, and I have Scott (I never thought the day I arrived at the mansion that I would have him), and she has Logan.
With her beautiful silky hair, and delicious looking legs, and womanly figure and soft feminine charms - Rogue has Logan.
Jean has Scott.
I hate the hurting that comes when I remind myself - Jean is me.
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